Divided
by Sicarius-Wolfe
Summary: Unlikely paths cross, tangle deep together. The world darkens as a unknown shadow sweeps across the land. Only a few see the death that is to come and fewer still rise up to stop it. Rated M for language, sexual circumstances and violence.
1. Chapter 1

Paths Tangle

The dried leaves crunched underfoot as a lone figure strolled slowly down the beaten path, face concealed by a dark cowl. The moon was full, shining even through the thick clouds that rolled above the forest in a dark mass, being shifted by a wind that rustled through the stark branches of the trees. In the distance wolves cried out, baying their heart wrenching calls from somewhere deep in the wilderness.

Ahead, the path abruptly opened up into a sleepy little village. Even at this hour, the inn's windows glowed with warmth, merry choruses of celebration could be heard, if not a bit muffled. A twig snapped and the cloaked figure turned and stared intently in the trees, tensed, hands moving slowly to the dagger sheathed under its cloak. A pair of yellow eyes blinked open, followed by the broad nose, dulled tusks and olive skin of an Orc. He nodded once, his limp black hair falling in front of his face.

"This is the place?" The figure inquired, head nodding to the village behind them. Its feminine voice cold and hard with some unknown emotion.

The Orc grunted, baring his teeth. "They will pay." He paused, then added fiercely, "_We_ will make them pay!" Already, she could see dark figures not unlike herself sulking through the shadows in a wide arch, creeping towards the village. The shine of cold steel glinted in the dim light. Notching an arrow, she turned to follow, silently descending down the hill.

Mur'tarek was a vile excuse of an Orc, his clan Vurglar, fought mainly among themselves when they were not raping, pillaging or plundering across Kalimdor. He kept his tribesmen in line with an iron fist and brute strength, but it would be unfair not to acknowledge his eye for strategies and battle. He had a talent of rallying the various Orc and even some of the more barbaric Troll clans under his banner and of raising spirits. But that was not why she followed him down the slopes to the first farm houses. He had promised her vengeance.

The Orcs were waiting for him at the base of the hill, wide, rotten smiles spread across hideous faces. Someone lit a torch and offered it to Mur'tarek, which he grabbed and thrust it into the air above their heads.

"For the Horde!" His booming voice cracked at her ears, along with the various war cries of the others and they watched him greedily as he tossed the torch at the first house. Pandemonium soon followed. Screams filled the night air and she watched as the few defenders that the village had groggily emerged from their beds only to be slain where they stood.

Children were crying and being torn from their mothers to be broken like ragdolls in the hands of the Orcs, the women were simply dragged away. Young and old alike were being butchered in their beds or locked in their homes as the fires quickly spread to engulf them. She could hear their tortured screams as they died, barricaded inside. A few of the Orcs had ripped barmaid's clothes to tatters and were parading her around the streets naked.

"This is the vengeance you promised me?" She growled savagely as Mur'tarek approached her side. "This! You sicken me."

He merely chuckled. "These Orcs live in the hills, where the only thing they know is the blade. The blade and revenge. Hate runs deep and surges through their veins." He eyed the frenzy, eyes twinkling in the firelight. "Let them have their fun. I let one of the villagers go. Do you think Stormwind will stand idly by as their people burn? Soon they will come."

Her mouth tasted of bile, she wanted to scream in frustration and anger. It was Horde like them that tarnished her people's name. The shame in her heart was sickening. There was no honor in this. It was foolish to think that _these_ Orcs could give her the vengeance she craved, could offer her something more than petty village raids. Disgusted, she turned and left the scene behind her and stalked off into the woods.

Soon the carnage of the village was gone, muffled by the soft rustling of the trees and the sighing of the wind. Or so she thought. Soft whimpers of fear met her ears and through the pines she could see two terrified girls being tossed between a group of Orcs, each taking a turn at ripping at the women's clothes. Tears streamed down their dirty faces and they attempted desperately to cover themselves.

Gripping her sword under her cloak, she clenched her jaw furiously. She could not stand for this. Not any longer. She would not be like _them, _she would not allow innocents to be harmed, no matter their race. Stepping through the trees, she let her presence be known. The two girls saw her first, their eyes widened with terror, probably thinking she was another to join in on tormenting them.

"Stop." Her voice cracked like a whip and simultaneously four Orc heads turned to stare at her blankly.

"What you say, Troll?" One spat, still frozen in the process of tearing off one of the girl's gown. He was ugly, even by Orc standards and her keen nose could pick out his stench even over the fear that the two humans put off.

"Unhand them." She warned, her eyes flashing dangerously from underneath her hood. The other growled and shook his red-headed prize so violently that she was sure that he'd snap her in half if he continued much longer. The first laughed.

"Or what you do? I kill you easy." She barely could make out what he was saying through his guttural accent and rotted teeth, but even before he finished her blade was blazing. The dwarven forged steel sliced cleanly through the first as she simultaneously pushed the red haired girl to the ground.

The other two immediately rushed her after they got over their shock, crude axes arching past her wildly. She easily managed to sidestep them, the first axe buried itself haft-deep into the trunk of a tree. While he was sorting that out, she ran the other one straight through. He gave a strangled cry, axe toppling to the floor. Hot, dark blood washed over her hands. No time to think about that now.

Their leader charged her, shoulder ramming into her chest with the force of an ox, slamming her against the ground. Her head cracked against the hard floor and lights flashed across her vision, sword flying out of her hand.

"Now, I take you too." Putrid breath flowed over her face as he stood above her, eyes glinting with malice.

Hissing, she grabbed her boot knife and drove it into his calf and twisted, taking small pleasure as he howled. The other tore free his axe and came at her again, swinging it madly. Jerking her knife back, she kicked the first to the ground. Let him writhe, she thought as she began to battle the other. He wielded his steel as if he were hacking meat, but that didn't mean his wild strikes were any less quick.

Pain blossomed in her right arm as the axe grazed her shoulder as she failed dodging the cruel edge fast enough. Blood welled down her wrist, make her grip on the blade slippery. Furiously, she waited for an opening, dancing lightly around him. The Orc swung his blade around, intent on chopping her to pieces. Finally. Ducking, she lunged at him, her dagger plunging home into his heart.

One of the girls stared at her with wide eyes and gasped at something behind her. Spinning, she snatched up the axe and screamed. Her momentum finished the job and there was a dull thud as the Orc's head toppled to the ground.

Panting, she let the axe fall. Everywhere there was blood. Dark, black Orc's blood. Already, she could feel it soaking through her clothes. Retrieving her boot knife from the corpse and her sword laying in the mud, she sheathed both and turned to the girls. They were huddled together, shivering, both bloody and bruised, covered in dirt. They stared at her in terror.

"It's alright," she said, holding up her hands. Then she realized that they couldn't understand her. Somewhere during the battle her hood had yanked down, revealing her purplish blue skin and the crimson eyes that marked a Troll. "Please, I will not harm you." They broke out into sobs. She shook her head in frustration, running a hand through her dark hair.

Someone yelled behind her and she only managed to turn in time to see that it was a hammer that smashed against her skull.

"What is your name?" A voice yelled too loudly that might as well have been a hammer and her head a gong. She attempted to open her eyes. Bright lights flooded her vision, setting her skull on fire. Oh, her head hurt! The dizziness made her want to throw up. Waiting for the nausea to pass, she tried again, slowly.

Many faces peered up at her. Most human, though there were some others. All Alliance. That was not good. She thrashed, but the bonds that shackled her from the ceiling by her wrists held strong. Where was she?

"Your name?" Someone said in broken Orcish. She glared at the fat cleric below and spat. Repugnant Alliance aristocrats. A whip cracked and lashed against her back causing her cry out.

"I would answer the question if I were you." A tinkling voice sounded next to her in perfect Orcish. A beautiful woman was seated near her, her silvery hair shining brilliantly in the light. Baring her teeth, she hissed. Blood Elves, the only thing worse than Alliance.

"Where am I?"

"First your name." The elf smiled that little cocky smile of theirs that made irritated her to the core. The lash cracked again.

She took her time about answering, to let them know she was going about things at her own pace, no matter how many times they struck her. "Faine. Now where am I?" Her demands brought another lash and a bout of girlish giggles from the elf.

"Come now, Troll. Can't you take a gander?" She paused, a mocking smile on her pretty little face. Insufferable sop. Faine wanted to tear it off her face and tack it on her wall like a trophy. "Hmm, no? Stormwind. Where we take all Horde prisoners."

Faine couldn't suppress the chill that ran her down body in a tremor. Stormwind, the Alliance capital city, was far across the ocean in the Eastern Kingdoms. She knew she couldn't have been out that long to travel by ship; one of the human mages must of opened a portal. She cursed ever agreeing to fight for Mur'tarek. Scanning her surroundings, Faine made a mental note of everything.

It was clear she was being held in some kind of dungeon. Though it was too large to be cell. About ten humans were gathered in it, most of them regarding her with extreme disgust and turned away with a sickened expression when her crimson eyes met theirs. However, when she fixated her gaze on the slender body of a draenei she was surprised to see that the woman didn't look away. The draenei was staring intently at her with those eerie pupil-less eyes, expression unreadable. Now that she thought about it, the draenei had never once broken her silvery stare.

"So Troll, tell us what tribe you hail from." Came the twinkling voice of the elf again. Faine refused to answer and it was quiet for many long minutes. The elf nodded to whoever was holding the lash. It cracked out again and again.

Faine could feel the blood trickling down her back in a steady flow now. The stinging burn made it hard to breathe. The whip mercilessly bit into her skin again, she couldn't suppress the whimper that escaped her lips. Bringing herself to meet the cruel eyes of the elf, she still managed a defiant glare. Laughing merrily at the strong will of her prey, the elf raised her hand again to signal the painful lash to lick against her skin.

"Enough." spoke one of the humans, in their own tongue. "Clearly, this is getting nowhere. Take her back to the cells." Most of the humans had gone pale, faces ashen. The one who had spoke, begrudgingly glanced toward the elf. "You may use whatever force necessary, Jeserine, just get us answers."

Faine didn't much like the way her eyes lit up at his words, nor the smirk that tugged at her full red lips but she kept her own expression slack to hide the fact she knew their language. The Blood Elf bowed lowly to the human man and instructed the guards to take Faine away. Spitting at the woman and thrashing at her bonds, Faine attempted vainly to pull free of their grasp. She had no delusions of escaping. The troll only wanted to cause as much pain as she could to her captors.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the draenei woman raise from her position of sitting cross legged on the bench and whisper something under her breath. Suddenly, Faine's struggling began to cease and her eyes began to grow heavy. It was as if a warm blanket was winding itself around her. Shooting one last angry glance at the damn goat woman, she drifted off into a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Hardening of the Soul

A cool stream bubbled happily down the sun painted mountains of her home. Sekila (Her name in her native tongue. Later she was forced to change it, to Faine, to conceal her identity of one borne of the Jorin'ar tribe) kneeled, cupping the chill in her hands she pressed it against her lips. From her vantage she could see the small huts of her village, its people finishing up chores as the day came to a close. She fingered her dagger thoughtfully, basking in the warmth of the fading rays of the sun that hung low in the orange sky behind her. Soon enough she would be Tykkan'jin and be pronounced old enough to join. The sound of crunching gravel came to her keen ears. Instinctively, Sekila whirled around, letting her dagger fly. She smiled slyly as it thudded into the bark of a palm next to the face of Renar.

"I see your aim is still as sharp as ever." Wrenching it from the tree, he smiled fiercely at her before he came to crouch at her side.

Sheathing her dagger, Sekila studied Renar thoughtfully, taking care to hide her emotions. He was a fine Jorin'ar troll indeed, only a few years her senior. Unlike the Darkspear trolls to the south the Jorin'ar stand tall, with well muscled backs and straight rigid posture. The Jorin'ar women have smaller feet and more feminine faces and the men proud, handsome features; both genders have smaller tusks then their cousins in the south. Most women, their tusks were slight, so much so that they were hardly noticeable. The Jorin'ar had little love for their troll kindred outside the tribe. They thought of them as a lesser race, little better than Orcs and distained their lack of honor and crude conduct.

Renar wasn't looking at her, his gaze adverted to the village, deep in thought. Sekila had to admit, Renar was as handsome as they come with his chiseled features and strong jaw. He stood a good height, well proportioned with broad shoulders. Underneath his leather vest she could make out muscled chest, his skin an agreeable olive hue.

Down below, the village was preparing for the evening meal. Already she could hear the drums and flute beginning to sound and the fires were being stoked to life, roaring and sparking in the distance. The sun was still making its lazy decent, however the clouds changed to brilliant reds and deep purples, bathing the valley in twilight. The failing light made the emeralds of the palms and jungle brush even more vibrant, contrasting pleasantly with the red hues of the earthen cliffs.

Renar turned abruptly to stare at her, his deep scarlet eyes burning into hers. Flushing slightly, Sekila looked away abashed. Reaching out, he delicately brushed a stray lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ears. "I hear soon you are to be Tykkan'jin." he spoke softly, his words a low rumble, eyes downcast shyly. Sekila moistened her lips with her tongue, it was suddenly becoming very difficult to breathe. Gently, he pried up her chin to bring her eyes to meet his smoldering gaze. His touch was like fire burning across her skin, making her heart flutter in her chest. "Have you chosen the man you will join?"

It is Jorin'ar custom for the woman to pick a male to wed. Once joined the two are mated for life. Sekila looked up at him. His loose braid, the same color as his eyes was hanging over his powerful shoulders. Her hand moved on its own accord, reaching out to him it found his chest underneath the leather vest and rested softly over his heart. She was memorized by his gaze and couldn't look away, a soft smile touched her mouth.

"I have." her voice was barely over a whisper, but her tone was no less intense. "It was always you Renar. I've known ever since we were children." At her words, he pulled her in close, strong and rough hands drawing her body against his. Renar was one of the finest warriors among the Jorin'ar but with her he was always gentle, his touch tender and soft. And as if he couldn't take it anymore, he bent down and kissed her, his fingers digging into her purplish skin.

Stroking her cheek softly, he gazed at her with his deep crimson eyes. Hand still over his heart, Sekila could feel it pounding hard under his breast. "Am'ori Sekila." he breathed, meaning my beloved in the Jorin'ar tongue. Together, they walked down into the village to announce their joining. Tonight would be a celebration to remember.

/

Deep down, Faine really didn't want to open her eyes, but cowardice is not a trait of her people. However, opening her eyes would mean leaving the pleasant memories of her homeland to the stark truth of reality. There was nothing for it. Bitterly, she cracked open her eyes.

The pain in her back had been subdued by the magical slumber. But now as she regained her focus, the scorching agony was growing more intense. She couldn't stifle a low grown that managed to escape her parched lips. Vaguely, she became aware that she was strapped vertically wooden slab by her wrists and feet.

"Ah! I see you are awake. How lovely." The blood elf grinned, a smile that didn't manage to melt her cruel jade eyes. They were always in a perpetual frost, shinning with malice. "I was hoping you would come around soon. I hate working without my plaything's full attention.

"You know you are quite pretty...for a troll. Can't even see those nasty fangs! I do think I will have much fun with you. Defiant and strong willed. I will take such delight in breaking you. Don't worry my love, you will break. How long do you think will hold out? A day maybe? Perhaps even a week."

Faine remained silent. Her memory of Renar left her heart cold and bleak. It didn't matter what happened to her physical body, the woman could have it. No pain could compare to the bitter emptiness she felt inside. She didn't even bother to look at the woman.

"The mages want answers. But it seems as if you are hardly in the speaking mood. Perhaps we better loosen your tongue a bit." Jeserine ran her spindly fingers across her torture instruments as if contemplating her last statement. "I have a better idea." She waved a hand towards the corner, beckoning someone to come closer.

A succubus sauntered out from the shadows, hoofed feet clacking against the dungeon floor, to stand in front of Faine. She could hardly care. The whip cracked and the demon gave a girlish giggle. Faine didn't even flinch.

"What's the matter?" the elf pouted, stroking her long-nailed finger across Faine's cheek. "You don't like her?" she tsked, "That won't do at all. If you won't look, I'll make you look!" Invisible bonds coiled around Faine, wrenching her head up. The succubus had her supple lips parted with pleasure. Faine, though she hardly liked to admit it, was disturbed by minion. The succubus was slender with milky white skin. Only clad in a black leather thong, her curvaceous breasts were bare, pink nipples erect. Dark wavy hair fell loosely around slim shoulders. Her eyes deep pools of lust that threatened to pull Faine into them. "That's better." crooned the elf into Faine's ear.

Jeserine gripped the chain hanging from the succubus' throat and pulled her close. The elf's tongue parted the mouth of her minion, moaning in ecstasy. For long moments the two remained intertwined, grinding together with need. Abruptly, Jeserine jerked her mouth away. Breasts heaving with her nipples clearly visible beneath the thin fabric, she allowed the succubus to bite her neck sensually. Faine spat in disgust, unable to look away, magically bound as she was.

"Enough," Jeserine panted, her eyes heavy lidded with pleasure. The succubus was writhing against its master's body with desire, whimpering in the elf's ear. Her hands were caressing her master's breast, yearning for more. Jeserine merely brushed the demon's hand away. "Soon my love." she pondered for a minute, then smiled wickedly. "Alaina."

Another figure stepped forth from the darkness. It was a human girl shackled at the hands and throat, leather bindings around her ample breasts and twisting around her thighs that did nothing to preserve her modesty. Her wide brown eyes gazed pleadingly into the elf's. "More..." she moaned throatily, her body shining with oil in dim torchlight. The elf obliged with tinkling laugh, one hand twisting the humans nipple the other following the bindings down between her legs. Alaina groaned with pleasure, head tipped back, copper hair tumbling down her bare back. The succubus couldn't contain herself, her milky skin flushed, she wrenched back the human's head by her hair and slipped her tongue inside the other's seeking mouth.

Faine was horrified at the scene before her. Stomach turning, she desperately struggled against her invisible bonds. The moaning of the human was growing louder, her breath coming swiftly. Jeserine's nimble hands were moving quickly between her thighs, her body pressed close against the woman's back but never once did she take her cruel eyes off Faine. The succubus groped the human's breast, using her mouth as deftly as her hands.

Occasionally, she would let her whip crack against the girl's soft flesh, tugging at Alaina's collar. It wasn't long before the girl was screaming with ecstasy and pain, tears streaming down her cheeks, eyes squeezed shut. It lasted for hours, the three of them intertwining around each other, moaning and stroking, licking and biting, elf and succubus skillfully alternating between pain and pleasure. All the while, Faine was made to watch, sickened.

The succubus rubbed her breasts against the human, groaning before she kneeled down, hands clutching the girl's thighs, tongue parting the human's lips. Jeserine bit the girl's neck, clawing her flesh, two fingers deep inside Alaina's sucking mouth. The girl was shuddering, bound breasts heaving with pleasure. She let out a final scream before her knees gave out and she slid to the floor, sobbing and bloody from lacerations.

Satisfied, the elf nodded at the succubus, who led the human girl crawling away by the collar. Slipping back into her gown, which had been pulled off, she shook her silvery locks. Cheeks flushed, Jeserine moved closer to Faine until she was a hairsbreadth away.

"Did you enjoy the show?" Giving her a evil smile, the elf thrust her hands between Faine's thighs. Hissing, she struggled against the elf's touch. Withdrawing her hand, the elf wrapped her tongue around one slender finger. "I would say so."

She cackled as Faine blushed furiously. "Well I have other business to attend to, so I will leave you to my slaves. Alaina was once a priest, she will heal you if my pet gets too rough." Jeserine snickered, "Though, that's only if she can contain herself, the little slut."

The blood elf's tinkling laugher stuck with her, even as the woman faded into the darkness, door slamming behind her.

/

Many nights passed. Jeserine, Alaina and the succubus all taking turns pleasuring one another. When the elf had to leave, Faine was left alone with the succubus. She apparently had an appetite for the erotic that could not be quelled. Awarding pain with pleasure, pleasure with pain, the succubus would never tire even after Faine's body could handle no more.

Some nights (or was it days? There was no way to tell in the dark, windowless dungeon.), Jeserine would unbind her and lead her to a round bed by a collar much like that of the girl's. There they would gag her and attach her leash to a metal rung bolted into the stone walls. Sometimes they would let her writhe in rope bindings that constricted the harder she struggled as they tormented to near tears with pleasure. But never once did the elf ask a question.

But the worst was when the elf led her away alone. When she was with the others, Jeserine was always inclined to watch, to command. Alone...Faine shuddered. The elf had no mercy, no hint or trace of compassion in her cold, jade eyes.

There had been times, alone with the elf, that Faine's resolve had almost been torn completely away. As the elf said, in time she would be broken. _Oh, Renar..._ she thought wearily, _Please give me the strength to not betray our people. _

One terrible night, Faine had almost had her revenge. She could barely stand, her body shook and trembled all over. The blood elf had her back turned away from her, intent on whatever she was doing. Slipping into the shadows, Faine snatched up a wicked looking blade from the woman's instruments of pain. Softly, she crept up on the elf, dagger held high.

A whip cracked, lashing around her wrists followed by the succubus' giggle. Jeserine whirled around, her eyes, if possible, colder. That night Faine experienced no pleasure.

When it was done, her blood flowed across the stone floor. Tired, exhausted, Faine prayed for death. But death did not come. The human girl had healed her wounds. Faine could have almost wept in despair.

"This," Jeserine trailed a finger from her sternum down around her left breast. The bloody gash formed the letter J. "will always be a reminder that you belong to me."

/

How many days had passed, Faine could not say. She had grown weak, past exhaustion, past the point of caring. No longer did the horrifying nights scar her mind, nor did the pain have the same agonizing bite. She realized, indifferently, that she was going to die soon.

Jeserine looked up from the parchment she was studying in the dim candle light. "It would seem you have a visitor." The elf didn't look at her as she glided into the darkness, towards some unseen door.

Faine heard the voice of a woman, speaking in low tones to the elf. Her dead eyes stared forward, not caring anymore. Soon she would die and nothing would matter. Soon she would die and she would be with Renar. Closing her eyes, Faine smiled at the thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Out from the Shadow

Jeserine had left, leaving the visitor alone in the dungeon. Footsteps padded softly against the hard stone floor and came to rest in front of Faine. She sucked in a breath of contempt, exhaling with a slight hiss. For a long moment she did not speak.

Faine found the will to look up at the woman, granted it was hard to see with her eye somewhat bruised and swollen. The draenei that had been in the chamber when she had first arrived in Stormwind was standing before her, looking around in apparent distain. The woman met her gaze, or at least Faine was pretty sure she did- it was hard to tell with her sightless white eyes that somehow saw everything.

The woman kneeled, looking at her hardly. "Good, you're alive." she said it as if she had expected otherwise. "Blood elves!" she cursed vehemently, voice full of scorn. Pulling something out from under her hooded cloak, she turned back to the troll. "I am sorry to have to do this but there is nothing I can do."

The pleading tone in her voice contradicted with the expression of conviction on her face, as if she was trying to convince herself that what she said were true. In her slim hands she held a red, metal collar. It was broad, four fingers wide and garnished with pale greenish blue opals. The metal was formed in a ugly twisting design made more sinister by its scarlet hue.

Softly, she recited words that Faine could not recognize. The aura of magic being woven swam around the woman and the collar swung open by some unseen latch. Faine struggled against the chains that held her shackled to the floor, but it was no use; she could not stop the draenei from shutting the collar around her neck. Defiantly, Faine bared her teeth at the woman, the collar weighing heavily on her slender neck.

Hand hovering over the chains, the woman closed her eyes and began muttering something under her breath. The heavy shackles clattered to the ground. The draenei stood, tossing a cloak and a pair of boots to the ground before Faine's feet. "Dress." she commanded, turning around.

Weighing her options, Faine did as she was told. Better to take her chances with the goat woman then to be in the sadistic clutches of the elf. Her clothes had been tattered to shreds some time ago. Luckily, the dark russet cloak was long and billowy, hiding her nakedness under its rough spun material. Faine eyed to boots firmly. It was not her custom to wear shoes, trolls much preferred to feel the earth under their feet. Grudgingly, she laced them up not liking how they constricting they were.

Glaring daggers into the woman's back, her hands tentatively reached up to the collar. Hesitating at its power, Faine gave it a determined tug. Screaming in pain, she withdrew her stinging hands and fell back against the wall for support.

"You will never get if off that way." The woman turned. Her words held a deeper, sadder meaning that Faine couldn't comprehend.

Eyes narrowing, she glared that the woman. "What did you do to me?" Chest heaving in pain, she fought the bouts of dizziness that clouded her mind. The draenei was at her side, gently supporting her. "No! Don't touch me!" Faine spat, jerking away from the woman's grasp.

For a moment the draenei looked as if she was going to say something but instead she simply nodded and turned on her heel. "We must get going."

/

Together they ascended out of the blood elf's dungeon that was hidden deep in the catacombs underneath Stormwind. Emerging from the monastery, which Faine sneered at the irony, they walked the cobblestoned roads of the city. With their hoods drawn, they moved stealthily through the shadows unnoticed. She thought it strange that there was hardly anyone in this part of the city, beside the occasional guard. The draenei had to stop often for Faine to regain her strength. However, she never again did try to help the troll. Faine had the idea that she could probably ease her wounded, tired body with little effort but her pride forbade her to allow it. After all, she was still the enemy.

The moon shone brightly above the pale city of Stormwind and the fresh air was a welcome relief. She stopped for a long moment the first time they were out in the open and breathed. The draenei said little, only gestured that they should keep moving. Overtime, Faine couldn't help but to stare awed at the grand buildings and silvery colored streets, all neatly arranged and purposeful.

Jorin'ar are not want to leave their lands, favoring their harsh desert homeland over crowded cities. This had to be the furthest from home she had ever been; right in the heart of her enemy. Glowering, she wrenched her eyes off the pristine walls and colorful tiled rooftops and concentrated on the road.

It took some time to realize that the heavy collar around her neck began to burn whenever the draenei's quick pace took her too far away from the troll's sluggish steps. Seeming to sense this, the woman would always stop and wait for her charge to stagger painfully forward. Leaving behind the Cathedral district, they crossed a bridge standing over the shimmering waters of the canals. Faine sucked in a breath of astonishment, never before had she seen so much water. Her awe quickly turned to distain. Stormwind and its people grew fat as her people died and suffered at their hands. Clenching her fists, she had no choice now but to follow the draenei.

Gapping over the canal was the Dwarven District. It no longer had the pristine white stone buildings and well tended gardens and deserted streets. The Dwarven District bustled with life and activity even late into the night as it was. Races of all Alliance kinds were scurrying about doing business and making repairs. The ringing sound of hammers hitting steal reached her ears as blacksmiths worked the night away. Vendors were shouting their wares as stony faced guards were looking on warily. Drunken patrons of the inn were stumbling in and out of its welcoming threshold, singing loudly in slurred languages Faine knew not. The tolling bell of the auction house rang out constantly as people hoped to make their fortunes. Sometimes, the two were separated as strange beasts sauntered down the crowded road, their master's hardly paying much attention to the people underfoot that they were threatening to trample.

Feeling uncomfortable, Faine kept her gaze down, hiding her face deep within her hood and made sure her cloak was wrapped snuggly around her frame. It didn't matter, everyone was involved with their own business to pay much mind to two more hooded figures in the massive throng of people.

The draenei led the way, pushing through the masses with ease. They passed a bubbling fountain and descended down a sloping road that lead them to a circular tunnel. It soon became clear to Faine where the tunnel was taking them.

The Deeprun Tram was known even to the troll of Jorin'ar. Nonetheless, Faine had never expected it to be so impressive. The station was large enough to fit hundreds of people, however there were only a few figures on the shadowy platform. Sitting, the draenei motioned for Faine to follow. In silence, broken only by the screeching of wheels and clangs of metal against metal, the two waited for the tram.

It didn't take long for the grinding wheels to get louder. Abruptly, the tram was whizzing by and suddenly lurching to a stop with a hiss. Standing, the draenei made her way to the back car, glaring at a young human who tried to board it. The woman gulped, wide eyed and scampered to another car. Faine was the last to board, eyes shifting uncomfortably over the metal contraption. It unnerved her, but at a stout look from the draenei made up her mind. Plus, if it left the pain of separation would probably have killed her in her weakened state.

Lurching off again, the tram bumpily raced along its track, jolting them around from time to time. "How are you feeling?" The draenei inquired, breaking the silence for the first time since Stormwind. Faine merely glared at the woman. "Understandable." She sighed heavily, weariness making the draenei appear years older. "I am known as Zillian. We will get to talk more once we reach out destination. I know you must be tired, but we only have a little further."

Yes, she was very tired but she wouldn't give the draenei the satisfaction of knowing it. In her mind the woman was little better then the elf. Lifting her head proudly, she pointedly looked away. Although, it was difficult to appear aloof when the tram suddenly dipped down and the metal tunnel was swiftly replaced with glass. All around them was ocean. Colorful fish swam lazily by as the tram thundered past. With a pang, she realized that her people would never be invited to see such marvels.

Shuddering to a halt and another hiss, the tram stopped at what Faine would soon realize as the Ironforge station. The pitching motion cause Faine to stagger forward, barely able to maintain her balance she crashed into Zillian. Cursing herself for being so weak, she righted her cloak more securely around her body.

Draenei and troll disembarked the station, moving through a similar gateway that lead to the Halls of Ironforge. Faine could have gasped at the site. The cavernous city rose high into the stone above them and dove deep down into the earth until lava flowed. Intricate carvings decorated the walls and the buildings that were nestled into the stone. Heat flowed from the great forge itself, bathing the cavern in warmth.

Zillian seemed all very unimpressed at the city and moved purposefully down its circular roads. The collar stung suddenly and Faine hastened her steps. Never before had she seen anything so solid, so resolute. She could never imagine the Horde being able to take such a great city.

They made their way briskly down the roads, the throngs of dwarves and humans thinning as the sound of the forge died down. As it was in Stormwind, some parts of the city remained abandoned. The further into the city they delved, the cooler it became. Clutching her cloak tightly around her body, she shivered, shooting an irritated glance at the draenei who seemed unaffected by the chill air.

Zillian halted in front of a two story building that was cut into the stone. From the sign Faine could tell it was an inn even though she could not read its scrawling script that bore its name. The inn was warm, a fire cracking in a great hearth on the wall opposite to the bar. The common room was empty, except for a pink haired gnome, who was drowsing on a wooden stool.

At the sound of their approaching footsteps she jumped up with a squeak, looking around nervously. Big, luminous brown eyes blinked a few times at their ominous appearance. Zillian withdrew her hood after giving her companion a meaningful look. The gnome seemed to be more at ease, recognizing the woman.

"Ah, Mistress Zillian. So nice of you to come back!" she chirped merrily, a broad smile stretching her pale face. "I do hope you had a nice journey! As soon as I received your letter I made ready your rooms. Would you like dinner? Perhaps some ale? It's good time of the year for the winter brew. But oh! What am I saying, you just arrived! Certainly, you would want me to draw a bath. Perhaps-"

"Thank you, Milly" Zillian interrupted, smiling softly. "You can bring the meals up to our rooms. And my...companion can do with a bath."

Milly chattered away the whole time as she led the duo up the stairs. Faine found the small creature half annoying, half amusing. It took some getting used to the fact she only came up to her knees. "Well here we are, Mistress. If you need anything else, don't be hesitant to ask!" She eyed Faine shrewdly when she thought no one was looking, a slight frown on her face.

"Thank you, Milly." The draenei inclined her head, dismissing the gnome, who curtsied and vanished down the stairs. "The bath is in the room across the hall. Your room is next to mine."

Faine opened her mouth to demand why she was here, what the goat woman wanted with her but Zillian had already shut her door and bolted it. Clenching her teeth, Faine muttered bitterly to herself. Supposing there was nothing for it, the woman would probably explain herself tomorrow, she decided that a bath did sound quite nice.

The tub had clearly been built for someone quite shorter then she but never the less the warm water helped soothe her aching body. There was a full length mirror in the room and she blanched at her appearance. Her dark hair that faded to a purplish hue was a disheveled, bloody mess. Scars and bruises blotched her skin, which was once the color of wild lilac, was now a pale grayish tone and encrusted with grime. Clearly she had lost some weight. Her ribs poked visibly out from ashen skin stretched too tight and her cheeks were gaunt and devoid of color. Below that was the crimson collar that hung loosely on her neck. It shone dully in the candlelight, reminding her that she traded one master for another. But what had changed the most were her eyes. Once bright and fierce, they were hard and cold, their scarlet color deepening to pools of blood.

Sneering, Faine washed away the filth and shame of Jeserine's dungeon off of her skin. She had no doubt that they would always remain in her heart. Tracing the scar around her breast, she thought angrily at the elf's words. _"This will be a reminder that you will always belong to me."_

To hell with that, she thought savagely, scrubbing her body violently with a rag. One day should would kill that elf. Let her suffer like she had. That happy thought put a vicious smile on her skeletal face.


	4. Chapter 4

A New Heading

A few hours later Zillian heard the door next to hers slam shut. Her food remained untouched as she sat in a brooding silence. It was well past the midnight hour, most of Ironforge's residents were nestled in their beds, unaware of the doom to come. Softly she strode over the door and quietly descended the stairs back into the inn's common room.

Taking her place at the most shadowed table, farthest from the hearth, she waited patiently. Milly sleepily brought her a glass of hot cider and staggered back into the kitchens. The door squeaked shut behind her and then all was quiet. Zillian took a sip from the mug, letting the steamy liquid warm her bones.

An hour passed before another figure strode into the inn. He was swathed in a black robe that was clutched around his lean frame. Meeting her gaze, he sat in the chair across from hers.

"You play a dangerous game, draenei." Glowering around the common room, he swung his hard stare back at her.

"We all do, Sasur. Have you found what I asked?" Zillian stifled the urgency from her voice, keeping her tone cool and collected.

Moving uneasily, the undead eyed the common room nervously as if he felt something watching them from the shadows. "It is as you expected." He leaned forward, skeletal face gaunt and pale, the pungent smell of decay emanating from his putrid flesh. His voice was nothing more than a harsh whisper. "But reconfiguring the Dark Portal will be dangerous. What if you fail?"

"All will fail if we do nothing. There is no other option." Sighing, she looked away, staring at nothing. Unconsciously, her finger traced a star on the wooden table. "You know what comes."

"Then let this be of some use to you." A rotted hand reached under his cloak and pulled out a decayed tome. "My notes on the subject. I was too afraid to test my theories, forgive me. But I am certain that they are correct. The Dark Portal should work for you."

Neither one said any words of parting, there was no need. If her plan failed then it would be of no difference. Sasur disappeared into the night, slipping unseen from the city. Lips drawn in a rigid line, Zillian stared at the tome.

/

"And that, my friends, makes three." Placing the cards on the table, Teyan collected his winnings and started stuffing the heap of gold into his pockets. "Well it all has been good fun lads but the hour is late and some of us have prior engagements to attend to on the morrow."

Cheerfully, he collected his coat and hat and hurriedly made his way to the door, not paying a backward glance to the sullen group of gamblers still marveling over their ill luck.

"Not so fast!" There it was. The words he was dreading but knew had to come. "You win too much elf. Fortune does not smile so bright for anyone."

"Brother, I do not understand your meaning." Teyan put on his most innocent smile, confusion sweeping across his handsome face. "I know just the thing to cheer you up! Innkeeper, another round for my fine compatriots!"

Glaring at him, as to say that he better not cause trouble in his fine establishment, the innkeeper complied begrudgingly. As if that settled the matter, Teyan tossed a gold piece on the bar table and whirled around to the door. He only made it two steps before a rough hand grabbed hold of his wrist.

"I said, fortune does not smile that brightly for no man." the orc said in a deadly whisper, holding him fast. "You cheat, elf."

"Come now, don't be a poor sport. I mean no trouble and to prove it I will let you insult my honor to let me go in peace." Spreading his hands wide, Teyan forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Every head in the inn was turned in his direction. Teyan knew that he was going to have to do this the hard way. "Perhaps, there is some way to work this out?"

Wrenching his arm out of the orc's grasp, Teyan tore out of the inn and into the harbor of Booty Bay. The sounds of shouts and upturned tables followed him in his wake but he paid them no mind. Jumping nimbly over a railing and onto a wooden deck, Teyan sprinted towards pier.

"Fox! Get your mangy hide over here before I leave you for goblins to skin!" Teyan yelled over his shoulder, seemingly at nothing. Suddenly, a red fox was trotting at his side, giving him a reproachful look. "Hey you, don't give me that look! Do you want to be left behind?"

Together, they raced to the nearest ship in the port, their pursuers drawing in closer. Teyan darted up the closest gangplank, chest heaving. A dour looking captain crossed his arms with a stony expression on his sea-weathered face.

"Passage," he huffed, doubled over. "Anywhere. Just go." The captain didn't flinch, only eyed him expectantly. "Oh, alright already!" Digging into his jingling coat tails, Teyan withdrew a handful of gold coins and tossed it at the man. "Happy?"

Bestowing the elf a hideous, snaggle-toothed grin, he barked orders at his crew. "Pull anchor boys! We are leaving this shithole town early!" The crew hastened to carry out the captain's commands, heaving rope around the deck and climbing up the rigging. The ship slowly pulled away from the dock and set out to sea, leaving the angry inhabitants of Booty Bay cursing Teyan's name on the wind.

/

Many days passed out at sea. Teyan spent most of his time lounging on the bow of the ship, looking towards the horizon. During the nights he would play cards with the crew - honest cards that was, seeing how there was nowhere to run - and entertained them with grand stories and melodies he learned during his wanderings. His company lifted the spirits of the crew, who found him pleasant to talk to, often remarking that his charm must work wonders with the womenfolk.

The sun hung lazily over the horizon, painting the sky a brilliant orange. Teyan was at his usual spot on the bow, chewing on a straw with his hat pulled over his eyes. Curled up in a ball at his feet was the fox, apparently fast asleep.

"We make landfall at Tanaris tonight." The captain spoke, looking out to sea. "I will be somewhat sad to see you go, elf. It's nice to not have my crew grumbling the whole way there. Perhaps, you would consider staying for a while?"

Teyan cocked his head to the side, giving him a mischievous grin. "Life out on sea, no women or ale? Sorry, cap'tn but I'll pass. Besides, I am sure there will be plenty of trouble for me to get into in Tanaris."

As promised, the ship dropped anchor in the Tanaris port sometime after twilight. The crew disembarked to spend their coin at the local tavern. Shaking the captain's hand, he bade them a cheerful farewell and took off into the desert, the fox following closely behind.

Ashy white dunes rolled across the terrain, forming a motionless sea. Moonlight reflected off the pale sand illuminating the way to Gadgetzan. Like most neutral outposts, Gadgetzan was a rough and tumble town, consisting of mainly outlaws, exiles and swindlers looking to make a quick buck. Teyan grinned happily as he stepped through the crowds. From the distance, he could hear the cheers and roars of a swarm of people, all gathered around the center of the town.

Curiosity peaked, he pushed closer to investigate. Two guards were standing outside of a large arena, allowing admittance into the stadium. The sound was deafening. Inside came the heckling of many voices, all yelling to be heard, jeering on the contestants. Steel crashed against steel, feet pounded against the wooden benches. The cheering roared into the night.

"What's going on?" Teyan inquired, having to shout to be heard over the din.

"Arena teams. Happens almost every night. A silver to get in, ten gold to fight. Winner takes home a thousand gold." Grunted the orc.

A thousand gold, huh? Teyan mused, his fingers itching.


End file.
